


Assurance

by ellerean



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerean/pseuds/ellerean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The past is alive. It’s not a dead beast, only sleeping. It exists concurrently with the present, and can change without notice. That’s why Haru stands before the portal—to ensure that he keeps his happy life.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assurance

**Author's Note:**

> [harukanannase](http://harukanannase.tumblr.com) over at tumblr requested a time travel fic, which is something I've _always wanted to write_ because I love time travel. I didn't expect to finish this so quickly.
> 
> Please also note _**this fic is one giant trigger**_. I pray you've read the tags. I'm not messing around.
> 
> Kudos to my beta reader/titler [FMAvatard](http://fmavatard.tumblr.com) ♥

Most people believe the past is a fixed point. That what has happened cannot be altered or tampered with. That their successes and failures are to be accepted for what they are.

But as Haru stares at the portal, he knows they’re all wrong.

He was skeptical in the beginning. “You can’t change the past,” he’d said, like they’d all said. Time alteration is finicky. It cannot be done on the fly, nor unsupervised.

But Haru’s job is not to alter the past. He’s lived a good life, a happy one. The time agent hasn’t called him here to change anything, but to ensure the past doesn’t change on itself.

The past is alive. It’s not a dead beast, only sleeping. It exists concurrently with the present, and can change without notice. That’s why Haru stands before the portal—to ensure that he keeps his happy life.

For he’s seen the alternate future. The time agent has planted visions in his head, scenes Haru had only ever contemplated but never wanted to see. _What if things had been different? What if I hadn’t been there?_

“You may not have been there,” she explained, “if not for you.”

Haru had seen an alternate future, one were he lived his golden years alone. Where friends made daily visits to his house to ensure he wasn’t lonely, friends who would walk him to the pool because he didn’t have the strength to walk himself.

He’d never gone through a portal before; most common citizens hadn’t. But there was only one person who his younger self would listen to, and who had the ability to stop Rin in his tracks.

He closed his eyes when the tears sprang to them again. An alternate future: A shrine in the living room. The permanent scent of incense. Tearstains on the tatami mat from his daily prayers, bowed before a photo of a stone-faced boy in a white suit.

 _He’s okay,_  Haru thought, wiping his eyes. _And I’m going back to make sure it stays that way._

“Are you ready?” the time agent asked, and Haru nodded.

 

The portal was cold. He never liked the cold much; it meant he couldn’t swim, or that Rin had left the bed before him, or that he’d been sitting in the bath for too long. There was no ground to walk on, no walls to hold to when he felt dizzy. The time agent had explained he’d feel disoriented, but it wouldn’t last long.

It felt like only seconds before he was standing outside, staring at a younger Rin through glass-paned doors.

The progression of age is imperceptible when one witnesses the same face every morning, forty years of the same smile. If Haru had seen a photograph of sixty-year-old Rin when he was younger, he wouldn’t have comprehended it. It wouldn’t have been real.

Now, watching Rin bolt from the building, Haru marveled at how young he looked. So young, and so beautiful. And so very, very fragile.

 

* * *

 

_“Haru . . . let’s go. We’ll be late.”_

_“Makoto . . .” Haru collapsed to the ground, hugged his knees, and hid his face in his forearms. No one was permitted to witness the unshed tears, the overwhelming sense of defeat. His shoulders were trembling. “Where is he?”_

_The ground shook with approaching footsteps, his team running toward them. Not Rin, he knew. It wouldn’t be Rin._

_“Haruka-senpai?”_

_“Haru-chan . . .”_

_Haru clenched his fists. His nails dug deep in his palms; he hoped they drew blood. “Rin . . .”_

_Makoto eased his fists apart, and his hands stung where his nails had gouged the skin. He resisted at first, but allowed Makoto to pull him up, stumbling slightly, keeping his head lowered as his team circled around him._

_His team._

_“Forgive me, Haruka-senpai.”_

_“We really tried, Haru-chan.”_

_“Haru . . . let’s go.”_

_Dead last in the relay. It was a fitting parallel, Haru being the last to hit the wall. His competitors side-eyed him as he ripped off his swim cap. Wasn’t Iwatobi the next up-and-coming?_ This _is the great Nanase everyone spoke of?_

_“Haru.” He ignored Makoto’s outstretched hand. “You can’t stay in the pool.”_

_Haru didn’t get out until an official came over. Even_ he _was sympathetic, talking like Haru was a child to get him out of the water._

_What a pathetic loss._

* * *

 

Haru shook his head. His memories were crossing wires with his visions; the altered past was taking over what he remembered to had happened.

That wasn’t the true past. That was the past he was trying to prevent.

Rin was crying. He didn’t remember Rin crying, but again, he hadn’t seen him until much later. He was running, and Haru sped up so he didn’t lose him, but then Rin . . . stopped. Just like that. Not knowing what to do, or where to go. Even his tears had stopped, like he’d had enough. Like he was done.

Rin had to get to that tree. The time agent hadn’t been specific; she couldn’t tell Haru how to do it, only what he had to do.

_How the heck am I supposed to do this by myself?_

Rin was staring at him now. Haru hadn’t realized he was just standing there, staring into space as he tried to fit the pieces together. It was essential that he remember the current present, but it was slipping from him— _this_ Rin, the one glaring daggers at him, was temporary. Soon, Haru’s younger self would confront him, as long as he moved his feet and _did_ something.

There was no reason to be afraid of Rin. Haru was older now; it wouldn’t be uncommon for him to stare back at the youth who stared at him from down the sidewalk. So he did.

For a second, Rin faltered. Haru wondered what he thought—did he look familiar? Would his stance fuel his anger; could he see the color of his eyes? Haru hadn’t even bothered with a different hairstyle since high school. He caught the slight quiver of Rin’s jaw, and then he quickly turned and bolted again.

 _Great._ Haru sighed.

Suddenly, he knew what had to be done. But he had to get there before Rin. Haru cut across the parking lot, hoping he was still sprightly enough to jump a fence. He may still be a professional swimmer, but that didn’t mean his body wanted to climb. But it did—a couple teenagers stared at the middle-aged man clawing his way up the chain-link fence, and they clapped when he threw himself over the top. He blinked at them, like he was surprised they were there, surprised that anyone besides himself and Rin existed. He waved before he jogged off.

No one was at the tree. He only hoped this would work.

 

* * *

 

_“Haru? Are you coming?”_

_Haru closed his eyes as the shower poured its steady stream, his hair soaked, plastered on his face and over his eyes. He’d been vaguely aware of Makoto’s approach, but hadn’t turned. He lowered his head farther, the water pounding on the back of his neck._

_“The others left,” Makoto said. “I told them we’d go home together.”_

_“Where’s Rin?”_

_Makoto turned off the water, then draped a towel over Haru’s shoulders. Haru instinctively pulled it tighter._

_He was in a fog._

_When he got home, Haru dropped his bag in the foyer and kicked off his shoes. He shed his clothes one layer at a time en route to the bathroom—a swim jacket over the railing; a pair of track pants on the floor. He watched the tub fill with water. He heard nothing but the splash of water, saw nothing but its stream from the spigot._

_Haru gripped the old dolphin toy, hard. Its tiny fin pressed into his palm. He chucked it into the water, watched it bob and sink before resurfacing. It always resurfaced. He’d filled the tub too much; it spilled over when he settled into it. He allowed the bathroom floor to flood._

* * *

 

Haru stared at the stick discarded by his younger self, and the English words engraved into the dirt. He’d prided himself on those words back then—slowly scratching them out with the stick, finally understanding how true they were. Now, Haru crouched, gouging out the letters a little deeper. _This_ was the answer. He had to absolutely make sure Rin would see it.

_For the team._

He felt ridiculous, shuffling back behind a distant tree, waiting. Rin had already seen him, and he couldn’t be spotted again. But . . . there he was. Rin paused, but then walked toward the tree that reminded them so much of the one in the elementary school yard. Haru wondered—what if nationals had been anywhere else? Where would they have met, if at all? Rin shoved his hands into his pocket, and Haru checked his watched.

He sighed again. This whole task was exhausting. Now he had to get back to the main road, without Rin seeing him.

Now was the hard part.

 

* * *

 

_“Haru?”_

_He took a deep breath, then dunked his head underwater._

_“Haru!”_

_Makoto’s voice was distant, watery. When Haru opened his eyes, Makoto’s hazy image was overhead. He resurfaced._

_“Have you been in there all night?”_

_Haru wanted to stop Makoto when he reached for the tiny dolphin in the tub, but it wasn’t like he wanted the toy, anyway. Makoto handled it gently, poking its fin, stroking its tiny tail. He carefully set it back on its stand._

_“Come on, we’ll be late for school.”_

_“School?” Haru’s voice was raw in his throat, unused._

_“You_ have _been there all night? Wait . . . let me get you some clothes.”_

_“Where’s Rin?”_

_Makoto stopped, one hand on the doorframe. He didn’t turn. “Gou said he’s back at school. But . . .”_

_That pause was annoying. “What?”_

_“He moved out of his room. He’s not on the team anymore.”_

_Haru sunk down again to block out his voice._

_School, tub, sleep . . . in the beginning, Rei and Nagisa would try to visit after school. Haru started to lock his door. Makoto had a key—his family always had one, in case of emergencies—so he still came in every morning, pulling him from the tub for school. The weekend was a relief, until it was time for practice._

_“I’m not going,” Haru said, turning toward the wall._

_“You have to go!” Makoto sat on the edge of the tub. “We’re all counting on you.”_

_He studied the tiles on the wall, traced the grout with his finger. Makoto sighed and went into the hallway._

_Haru could hear bits and pieces of phone conversations._

_“Let’s take this weekend off.”_

_“We’ve been working really hard.”_

_“No, he’s fine!”_

_Haru blew bubbles in the water. He didn’t react when Makoto left, his footsteps pausing and fading slowly, like he considered turning back._

* * *

 

 _That never happened,_ he reminded himself, as he snuck back into the parking lot. Luckily, those kids were gone, and no one could see the way he stumbled and scratched his knee on the pavement when he jumped down from the fence.

 _Dammit_. There he was, his younger self. Running in the wrong direction.

He took off.

Haru watched himself run, which was a surreal experience. He was pleasantly surprised by how firm his backside was. He heard Rin’s name from his lips, though he himself wasn’t speaking. He sounded so _young_. That was the voice Rin loved to hear? The name he loved to hear Haru crying out for?

“Rin! Rin, where are you?!”

He pushed himself to move faster. Haru had never been a runner—it was awkward, going so fast without the water around him—but he had to intersect his younger self. He had to get him to turn around. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten to that tree—the memories had been fuzzy to begin with, but all he could see now was the alternative. The failure. The days of ignoring everyone as he soaked in the tub, too consumed with his own self-loathing to even consider how much Rin needed him.

 

* * *

 

_Rin’s new roommate didn’t bother him much._

_Actually, they didn’t talk at all._

_Rin tossed most of his belongings. Nitori had been a pain in the ass when he’d packed, insistent that he keep his “memories,” so some of it was shipped to his mom’s place. He resented that she’d be receiving one of his swim club tracksuits. He’d liked to have burned it._

_“Want these?” Rin asked, dropping a pile of workout clothes on Nitori’s desk. “Maybe you’ll fit into them one day.”_

_“Matsuoka-senpai . . .”_

_Gou kept on texting. Makoto had called once, asked if he wanted to hang out. Nagisa left one voicemail every day, at the same time. He couldn’t even stand to see Rei’s name; he’d replied to him once, telling him to fuck off._

_Haru had never contacted him at all._

_Not that it mattered._

_He’d been stuck with the top bunk. His new roommate snored, but at least he knew when the guy was asleep. Rin saw the way his new dorm mates looked at him—swim team reject. Loser. Is_ he _the one who went abroad for swimming? Rin punched the ceiling, then rubbed his sore knuckles. He climbed down from the bunk, careful not to shake the bed in his descent. It was past curfew; he shouldn’t be in the hallways. He grabbed his shower caddy and headed for the bathroom._

_The bathroom lights automatically went on when he opened the door. He would’ve liked to shower in the dark. He dropped the caddy to the shower floor and turned on the water, scalding, searing his skin when he stood beneath it._

_He didn’t feel like showering._

_Water. Fucking_ water _. He cupped his hands so it gathered in his palms, and then he chucked it against the wall. Punishing it. He rubbed his biceps. How long until they faded, until the reminders of his athletic attempts were behind him? Rin rubbed his chest, rough with stubble, curious now what he looked like with body hair._

_He took his razor from the caddy._

_It was dull. Rin always forgot to change the blade, only remembering when he was already in the shower._ Can’t even change a fucking razor blade _, he thought, staring at it. He was sweating now; he switched to cold water. It was like a blast, instantly freezing him. Rin rubbed his wrist, traced the light blue veins beneath the skin._

_Blue, like his eyes._

_He pressed a nail into his wrist. It hurt, leaving a deep crescent on his skin. He felt for the pulse, steady, slightly too fast after standing under the hot water._

_He rested the razor on his wrist._

_Rin thought he would feel something—fear, exhilaration, freedom._

_He shrugged and tossed the razor back into the caddy._

* * *

 

 _No_. Haru shook his head, his eyes stinging. That didn’t even make sense. He wouldn’t know something like that.

His younger self stopped, staring up at a clock. He was running out of time; they both were. They both stood panting, mirrored images, his younger self unable to see the older. He tried not to stare—staring at yourself for too long would short-circuit your brain. You’d return to the future disorientated, depressed. Remember how good you used to look? How young and athletic?

_I’m still athletic, dammit._

“The tree,” Haru croaked, hoping his younger self wouldn’t turn around. He’d be recognized in an instant. Perhaps not as himself, but related. A grandfather, if they were still alive. A distant relative. But there was no time to talk of genealogy. Rin wouldn’t remain at that tree forever.

And then, he saw the flash of realization in his younger self. It lasted only a second—he was standing behind himself, so Haru couldn’t see the expression. But he remembered it. He remembered the clarity, the obvious answer. Blissfully, he began to run in the right direction.

 

* * *

 

_Makoto bought the suit for him. Haru didn’t understand why he was wearing it, even though Makoto had explained several times. There were tears in his eyes as he straightened Haru’s tie. He even had a tie clip, a little shark emblem that Makoto had bought for each member of the Iwatobi Swim Club._

_“I don’t want to go,” Haru said._

_Makoto’s chin quivered as he swallowed, his smile stretched tight as he pulled Haru into another hug._

_Haru’s parents were there. He couldn’t remember when they’d come in, whether it was last night or a week prior. Their presence in the house surprised him every time he saw them. But he didn’t want to see his parents. He wanted to see Rin._

* * *

 

“Stop it,” he muttered, following after his younger self. _“That didn’t happen.”_

_“Rin!”_

Rin turned . . .

_“Kou?”_

_“Haruka-senpai . . .”_

Gou was running for him. Gou was wearing a black kimono, her hair unbound and wavy around her shoulders. Gou was crying on his shoulder. He placed a tentative hand on her head in an awkward gesture of compassion, marveling at how young his skin looked.

“This . . . isn’t real,” Haru said.

He looked up over her head. The urn sat on the altar; his mother had refused an open casket. He was unrecognizable, she’d said, arguing with the funeral director over the break in tradition.

 _Accidental drowning_ , the newspaper said. No one believed it—Rin Matsuoka accidentally drowning.

_Rin Matsuoka._

_This is his . . ._

“Come to laugh at my pathetic loss?”

“Rin!”

 

_The scent of incense burned his nostrils as Haru stepped up to the altar. He hadn’t realized how many people were there until he turned to face them, every eye on him and not one of them dry. Haru thought the entire population of Iwatobi was present. The Samezuka swim team sat in the back rows, all wearing their uniforms. When Haru cleared his throat, it echoed over the temple walls through the microphone. He backed up, grateful to see the bottle of water on the floor. He downed it in one gulp._

_“Rin . . .” The speakers magnified his cracking voice. He cleared his throat again. “Rin is . . . w-was . . . my friend.”_

_In the front row, Gou cried on her mother’s shoulder. He could hear Makoto sobbing from several row back._

_Haru looked at the urn. “I . . .”_

 

* * *

 

_I love him._

They were rolling around on the ground now. Haru could’ve left at this point; he knew what was next. But he couldn’t return to the future with the tears that blurred his vision. He hid behind a tree, listening. They stopped moving. He closed his eyes, remembering. Then, he heard the beautiful sound of Rin sobbing.

“Why isn’t it free?”

Still, he stayed. He wanted to watch the relay. He watched his friends cheering for his younger self as he swam, Rin most of all. Rin was cheering himself hoarse. He watched Rei. He watched Gou, so pleased to see her happy.

 _She was always happy_ , he thought, as the team posed for a photograph.

He took a slow walk back to the portal. It was in an odd place—an indistinct alley, far enough away that no one would stumble upon it. Not that anyone besides him could see it, but . . .

“Hey.”

He knew that “hey” anywhere. Slightly different with age, but the tone was the same. Suddenly he felt seventeen years old again, and for a moment believed he was when he turned around.

Rin was slightly mussed. His jacket was dirty from rolling around on the ground; his hair stuck up in the back, an unfortunate byproduct of letting it dry naturally. Haru tried his best not to smile. He always looked good a little rumpled. “Who are you?” Rin asked.

Haru’s eyes widened. “Me?”

Rin rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t yet healed—torn between his deep-set anger and a new feeling of elation. On the verge of a new life. _You have no idea_ , Haru thought.

“Sorry, you just . . . uh . . . look familiar.”

“That’s okay,” Haru said. It was a strange sensation—he wanted to keep on talking. He didn’t want to let Rin go, but that in itself was nothing new. “I swam here a long time ago. You . . . that was a good race.”

He scoffed. “Got ’em disqualified, though.”

“Was it worth it?”

Rin looked away, like the familiarity made him uncomfortable. Haru wanted to tell him so much: _You’ll live a good life. You’ll be happy. He loves you._

“Yeah,” Rin said, finally smiling. “Definitely worth it.”

He watched Rin run for the bus, the weird old man already forgotten. When Haru passed by the Iwatobi team, they didn’t pay him any mind. They chatted amongst themselves—young Haru included—so happy, so complete. So alive.

 

The portal didn’t feel as cold on the return trip.

It was strange to think that no time had passed, that—according to the time agent—he’d just disappeared, having returned mere moments later.

“I could’ve stayed longer?” Haru asked, fixing his wind-blown hair.

“You know that’s ill-advised,” she replied.

When he left the time agency, the air was clear. He paused, looking around for signs of change, but nothing was amiss. It was the same sun in the sky, the same warm pavement beneath his feet. Haru closed his eyes and breathed in deep, feeling the familiar air through his lungs. He hadn’t thought the air would feel different, but it did.

It made him dizzy.

He breath caught, and he gasped for air. He didn’t want to open his eyes, lest they open to blackness. Haru massaged his throat, expecting a tie to be there, clutching at his shirt where a tiny shark tie pin would be. There was nothing there, but he _heard_ Gou’s weeping and felt her tears; the scent of incense assaulted his sinuses.

“Sit,” said an all-too-familiar voice. A hand was on his back, and he was nearly pushed onto a bench. The stranger handed him a bottle of water, which he drank down in long, thirsty gulps.

Still, Haru didn’t open his eyes. The stranger had only spoken one word, but he knew that voice—it was older, and slightly different than the one that echoed in his head, but it was unmistakable.

“Don’t look at me,” the man said, though Haru hadn’t made a motion to. He wouldn’t have looked anyway—recognizing your own duplicate in the flesh was hazardous. He didn’t want to see himself old, not yet. The hand on his shoulder shook a little, and he could feel the papery skin through his shirt, but he was there. He was solid. Haru would live a long time.

“Why are you here?” he wheezed.

His older self squeezed his shoulder. “You know I can’t say. But”—the bench creaked as he stood—“go home.” He stroked Haru’s hair before walking away, and he listened to the receding footsteps. Why was he so _handsy_? When did that happen? Haru took deep breaths, filling his lungs to capacity before slowly releasing it. He didn’t looked up until he knew he was long gone, until the air cleared again and he could stand without crashing back down.

 _Go home_.

 

The house looked the same. The cherry blossom tree overtook the front yard, and the porch door was open to bring in the fresh air. Rin stood in the garden, hanging clothes to dry. He whipped around the moment Haru opened the gate, dropping a polo shirt in the basket and bounding toward him.

 _Rin_.

Happy, smiling, beautiful Rin.

**Author's Note:**

> ([Here](http://letsswimtogethernanase.tumblr.com/post/92440409423) on tumblr.)


End file.
